


the emptiness we leave behind

by sidewinder



Category: Babylon 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Implied Relationships, Loyalty, M/M, other characters briefly mentioned or seen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:06:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27047677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sidewinder/pseuds/sidewinder
Summary: Jeff can't ask Michael to come with him.Michael refuses to be left behind.
Relationships: Michael Garibaldi/Jeffrey Sinclair
Comments: 6
Kudos: 10
Collections: Fic In A Box





	the emptiness we leave behind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flowersforgraves](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowersforgraves/gifts).



**_2260_ **

He heard the words from his old friend, but he couldn’t believe them.

He couldn’t accept that Jeff would do this to him. After all they’d been through together, all they had shared and everything they had struggled through? This was _not_ how things were going to end.

> _“By the time you get this, I should be long gone. I'm sorry I couldn't tell you I was here. Sorry I couldn't see you. But if I told you what was up, you'd want to come along, even knowing the price. And I can't allow that._
> 
> _“But I had to leave something. I couldn't leave without saying goodbye. You see, Michael, I won't be coming back from Babylon 4. And if you went with me, you wouldn't make it back either.”_

“Dammit, Jeff,” he cursed at the image on his screen. “You don’t get to make that choice for me.”

No one did. No one but Michael Garibaldi. 

He only prayed that he wouldn’t be too late to kick Jeff’s ass for trying to leave him behind. 

* * *

**_The in-between_ **

Jeff had warned himself, in his letter from the future/past, that this process would be difficult. Probably the hardest thing he would ever endure in his lifetime, physically or mentally. That no matter how resolved to its necessity he would feel, nothing would prepare him for what he was about to experience. But when it was over, he would finally find true peace and understanding in his life. He would at last be able to know his purpose and place in the universe, making this challenge worthwhile. He had to have trust in that.

And if he couldn’t trust himself, his own words, then who or what _could_ he trust?

Delenn had given him some idea of what to expect as well, in their brief moments alone shared on this mission. She said he would doubt himself, curse the universe for making him go through what she could only describe as a nightmare. But destiny had guided him toward this moment in time, this place, this necessity, just as it had done for her. He would survive it as he had survived the Battle of the Line.

The irony was far too acute. Once, the Minbari had tortured him to near death. Now, he had to transition to become as one with them in body, as well as in spirit.

He clung to those words, those reassurances, when he was certain he could not take another moment of it. Trapped in the chrysalis spun by the Triluminary, at times he wanted to scream as it felt as though his body was being torn apart from the inside-out and resewn into something new—which was not that far from the truth. He was being remade, transformed from the man who had been Jeffrey Sinclair to the Minbari who had been/would be Valen. Becoming anew while traveling back in time.

His future lived in the universe’s past. 

His brain hurt to think about it too much, and his body already hurt more than he could describe. So he tried not to think. He tried to settle into a deep meditative state, to use the techniques he’d learned from the Minbari on how to acknowledge and move beyond pain and panic. To simply _be_ , as little as he possibly could, until this was over.

He couldn’t make a sound, couldn’t move. He thought far too frequently of an old science fiction/horror story he read long ago: _I have no mouth, and I must scream._ He couldn’t see but for the occasional dim flashes of light, as if someone was checking in on him from time to time. Had to be Zathras, the only one who had come back in time with him, to keep Babylon 4 running and operational until it was time to encounter the Minbari. Or perhaps it was the Vorlons—he’d told himself in his letter they would be there to help him. He couldn’t hear much except the occasional muffled sound of voices, which he again believed could be none other than the mysterious alien from Epsilon III. Zathras always seemed to be talking, whether to himself or to an audience.

Sometimes he thought he heard the voices of others...Michael? Delenn? Catherine? But he could hardly tell what was real and what was hallucination, memory or dreaming. When he needed something to center himself, he thought of the faces of those friends, his loved ones. He hoped to memorize them as best as he could, knowing he would never lay eyes on them again. 

This was his sacrifice. And he must endure it in order for those loved ones to even have the lives he knew and remembered. He needed them to succeed in defeating the enemy which otherwise would bring the entire known universe into darkness. He clung to each one of them in his heart, to their memory, as all other things were torn away from him, piece by agonizing piece.

* * *

**_2260_ **

“Captain, Commander,” Zack greeted Sheridan and Ivanova as they disembarked from their shuttle with the rest of the White Star crew.

“Mister Allan. Everything quiet in our absence?” Sheridan asked. He’d been expecting Garibaldi to be there to meet them upon their return to Babylon 5—and no doubt tear him a new one about being in on Sinclair’s plan to leave the security chief behind. Jeffrey had mentioned he’d left a message behind for Michael, one he shouldn’t be able to decode and play back until it was too late to intercept them.

“Well, sir, there’s a bit of a problem,” Zack said, with an uneasy look about him that the captain had learned was _not_ a good sign. “Garibaldi’s...well, he’s gone.”

“He’s _what_?” Susan blurted out.

“No sooner did he get back from Sector 14 than he tore back out of here in a fresh, fully fueled starfury. Wouldn’t tell any of us what was goin’ on, just told me to hold down the fort. And then, a couple hours later, he sent a time-delayed message back. Since then, we haven’t been able to...” Zeke paused, shook his head. “Captain, it appears he went right back to Sector 14 and then he...disappeared. We’ve tried contacting him repeatedly but there’s...nothing.”

Sheridan looked to Delenn, her eyes wide but her expression hard to read. And Susan, she looked as stunned as he felt—stunned and hurt—but he could see her doing her best to push down her pain.

“What was in his message?” Sheridan asked.

“I think it’s best if you come with me to the security command office, and you can hear it for yourself.”

* * *

**_1260_ **

Time passed—forward, backward, seeming like an eternity. But finally a feeling came over him, a reassurance that it was almost over. His transformation near completion. He struggled and found at last that he could begin to move, if only a little, the crystalline threads keeping him frozen in place beginning to weaken. As energy and movement began to return to his limbs he started to work on freeing himself. He pushed, twisted, and struggled the best he could until he felt and heard the first _crack_ in his prison walls. 

And then, a second. The small progress propelled him onward. It was slow work, not easy work. He could only do so much before he had to stop and rest, his body aching in ways strange to him. But the more freedom he began to create for himself, the more he needed it. 

Finally, and with a solid burst of all the energy he could muster, he found himself falling forward. He caught himself only at the last moment from tumbling face-first to the ground. As it was, he stumbled in his disorientation and weakness, managing just a few steps before collapsing from the exertion.

He gasped, breathing in air like a man who’d been drowning. He blinked and found even his eyelids felt heavy and stiff. He saw his hands and arms outstretched in front of him and shuddered, confused, by the dark scales like tree bark covering his skin. 

Was this right? Was this how it was supposed to work? He had no idea. Frightened and weak, he croaked out a strangled cry for help before exhaustion and darkness overcame him once more.

* * *

_“My god...is he alright?”_

_“Yes, yes...all is well. The One is here with us, at last.”_

_“What’s this stuff all over his body? Do we need to get it off him?”_

_“It will fall away in time. All completely normal.”_

_“None of this is normal, Zathras. Now help me get him to the bed.”_

_The two managed to lift The One’s limp yet heavy body, carrying it away from the remnants of the chrysalis to the nearby bed prepared for him._

_“The One will sleep now. But soon he will awaken. Soon they will find us. Zathras must finish preparing station, remove all traces of the future.”_

_“Don’t give me that look. I know I’m not supposed to be here. But you try to remove me and you’ll be saying hello to an airlock.”_

_“The One will not be happy about this.”_

_“Yeah, well...I’m not exactly thrilled with him either right now. We’re gonna have a lot to sort out, between us, when he wakes up.”_

* * *

**_2256_ **

Late night on Mars, and all was quiet in Michael Garibaldi’s quarters. Jeff lay awake in the cool sheets of his companion’s bed, heartbeat settling back into a slower, steady rhythm now that the heat of their reunion had passed...if only for a short while.

Michael returned from the bathroom with a glass of water in hand, offering Jeff a welcome drink before putting it aside on the nightstand, and joining him back in bed.

“So, you gonna finally tell me what’s brought you back this way? Or do I just take it as a pleasant surprise, don’t-ask-too-many-questions type of situation,” Michael asked.

“I had a little downtime before starting on my next assignment. One that...comes with an offer I wanted to extend to you.”

“Is that so. This sounds interesting. And potentially dangerous.”

“I expect it’s a bit of both.” Jeff had been pondering his words, knowing Michael would know something was up. “I didn’t think I was anywhere near the top of the list for consideration, but...they’ve offered me command of the new Babylon station. Babylon 5.”

Michael stared at him, mouth agape for a moment before breaking into laughter. “You’re joking, right?” Jeff shook his head, and Michael’s laughter faded as he saw Jeff was completely serious. “Wow, you’re _not_ joking.”

“No.”

“Then I guess...congratulations? I didn’t even think that’d be the kind of thing you’d be looking for.”

“I was...sort of volunteered for the job. But didn’t say no when approached. It’s a great opportunity, certainly from the standpoint of learning more about the different alien races out there. To help work on building a better future for all of us.”

“If it doesn’t kill you first! Jeff, it’s like the entire Babylon Project has been cursed. Sabotaged, three times in a row, then Babylon 4 completely disappearing as soon as they finished it... Anyone would be _crazy_ to want to take on that assignment, no matter how grand or noble its objectives!”

“You’re probably right. So I told them there was one condition to my accepting the offer. I wanted them to offer the chief of security position to you before anyone else.”

“Now I _know_ you’re screwing with me.”

“Absolutely not,” Jeff insisted. “You’re right that it’s a very dangerous assignment. And as such there’s no one else I trust to keep me safe—to keep everyone who might be working or traveling through Babylon 5 safe—than you.”

“Jeff, I...I don’t know what to say. I mean, for one, I don’t know if I can get out of my current assignment here on Mars early.”

“There’s time. The station isn’t going operational for another few weeks yet, and it’s going to be a while after that before it’s fully open for business. They just want me there as soon as it gets started to get familiar with the layout, operations...spend more time studying the races I’ll be working and negotiating with that we may not be as familiar with. So it may be a few months before I would need you there.”

“Understood, but...there’s also Lise for me to think about, I mean, we’re ‘off’ more these days than we’re ‘on’ but...to leave Mars for Babylon 5...”

“She could come with you, of course.”

“She could, but I don’t know if she would.”

“Just tell me you’ll think about it. As I said, you’ve got some time. I do understand the risks and that I’m asking a lot for you to take them on, that’s why I want you to be sure this is what you want...as much as I’d want you to be there. It’s your decision, but the job’s yours if and when you want it.”

“Jeff, I wouldn’t be here today if not for you...or if I was, it’d be staring down the bottom of a bottle feeling miserable and sorry for myself. I’d walk into a Martian dust storm or an entire army of angry Narns if you asked me to, and I thought it was the right thing to do.”

“Don’t tempt fate when we don’t know what the future might hold for either of us.”

“You’re right. Anyway. The only thing I want to know about the future right now is, are you gonna be here in the morning when I wake up?”

“Who said anything about getting any sleep between now and then?”

“Oooh. I do like the way you think.”

* * *

**_1260_ **

When he next regained consciousness, he found himself in a bed, naked beneath a standard issue, thin Earthforce blanket. He blinked, trying to focus his eyes in the dim light. Things looked subtly _different_ , but then he recognized the quarters where he’d set up the Triluminary to begin his....transformation. He saw the remnants of the chrysallis, shattered in pieces across the room. There was a scattering of scaly flakes on the floor, even surrounding him where he slept. He remembered his shock at the sight of his arms when he first broke free, and looked at them now. They appeared fine. About the same as...before.

But he didn’t _feel_ the same, in intangible ways which made him feel shaky, a little nauseous. He sat up with care, even his head feeling heavier than normal. Reaching up to rub his face, he felt another wave of shock and nausea as his hands didn’t quite recognize the curves beneath them. The bridge of his nose, the sharp hardness along his temples...this was all new.

_Steady. One thing at a time._ He had survived; he had come out the other side of this. He would adapt. He had always felt a kinship to the Minbari people, after all, a calling he couldn’t explain until he’d known this was his destiny. If it would take him some time to get used to his new skin, so be it. 

Now he had to focus on the most immediate matters. The door to these quarters were open—as he recalled the security locks hadn’t been functional yet except those used by B4’s skeleton crew. He didn’t remember walking or crawling to this bed, so someone must have carried him here.

Someone…Zathras, he assumed. Until—

“Jeff.”

He looked up toward the open doorway at that voice, shocked to see the one person who _shouldn’t_ be there. The one he’d tried to warn to stay away. 

It wasn’t Zathras. It wasn’t a Minbari of the past. 

_Oh, God, no._

“Michael…?” 

So he _hadn’t_ imagined that voice before, while he’d been caught in the in-between. And the reality of knowing this now was both a guilt-inducing comfort, and a tremendous sorrow. “I can’t believe you followed me,” he croaked out, his throat dry, his voice sounding off to his own ears.

“And I can’t believe you thought you could stop me, after leaving with a message like that.” Michael sat on the edge of the bed, concern, relief and uncertainty clear in his expression. He looked at least ten years older than when Jeff had last seen him, even though it had been less than two years since they had been face to face. What was left of his hair was mostly grey, his face showing signs of age that had not been there before. 

_The tachyon surge._

The main reason he hadn’t wanted Michael to come along with Sheridan and Delenn on the mission to take Babylon 4. He had known his own and Michael’s previous exposure would weaken them, age them to an unknown extent. “Soon as I heard it I high-tailed it off station in a starfury to catch up with you, Delenn and Sheridan. Wasn’t sure I’d get here time but damn certain I was gonna to try. Burned my fuel cells out at maximum capacity as long as I could to shave time off those three hours it’d take me otherwise, cursing you the whole way. But one way or another, I knew I was on a one-way trip to find you.”

“You’re damn lucky you didn’t get unstuck in time, lost forever. Or just killed!”

Michael shrugged. “Saw plenty of weird things along the way. Past, future, who knows. Tried to keep focusing on you. Made it through the rift and came up on B4 right before the tachyon pulse hit, sending us all back to when you and I first came upon this thing.

Michael paused, pursing his lips in an expression that said he knew he was guilty...but he didn’t care. “I knew you didn’t want me around and I didn’t want to mess up whatever you were doing—or run into my younger self. So I hid out in my starfury, in the docking bay until I saw everyone else rushing off station...without you. Watched the rift close right behind them. And by the time I found that weird pain in the ass Zathras, he explained what was going on. Wasn’t happy at all about me being here but said it was too late to stop what you were doing. Not that I was going to, once I understood.” 

Typical Michael. Jeff should’ve known he would try to pull something like this. His mistake was telling him _anything whatsoever_ , but now it was too late. “There’s no going back, you know. Not to where we were, and when we were before. Not to...who I was.” Michael hadn’t said anything, or looked at him oddly because of his appearance. Jeff supposed he’d had time to get used to it, waiting and watching over Jeff for however long he’d been out of it.

“Yeah well, it’s not like where we were was all that great. Not for me, at least. Shot in the back by one of my own men, then you’ve abandoned me and B5 before I even woke up…” 

“I’m sorry, Michael. I had no choice, it all happened so quick. I should have—”

“No, _that_ is all the past. Let’s not even. Yeah, I was pissed, and I was hurt, but I knew for you to do that there had to be a damn good reason for it.” Michael shook his head, looked away with a shrug. “Sheridan was okay, I guess, but...since you left Babylon 5 I felt like I was...going through the motions and nothing more. Trying to find my feet again when only you ever made me feel grounded.” He paused, looking back in Jeff’s eyes, reaching to clasp his hand. “And you will always be _you_ , Jeff. Appearances, whatever changes you went through in that thing be damned, I know it didn’t change the man you are. And I wasn’t going to let you go into this—whatever _this_ is—with no one to watch out for you. I owe you that much for all you’ve done for me.”

Jeff sighed. He couldn’t deny Michael’s presence was a comfort as he prepared to face the greatest challenge of his life. And he began to wonder if this hadn’t been what was meant to happen, after all. If his “warning” letter had in fact been a message meant to make sure Michael came along with him?

Jeff had been insisting to the others, through all of this, that they had to do what they were doing because the past decreed it would happen this way. That it was all in their destinies, as his was to travel back in time to become Valen. So perhaps, Michael was always meant to come with him, no matter how hard he might try to avoid it happening?

He supposed they would never know. Now they could only work to figure out the reality they now found themselves in.

“The Minbari aren’t supposed to make contact with humans for almost a thousand years. How do we explain your appearance?” Jeff wondered, this one concern crossing his mind.

“Well, I’ve been thinking about that, too, and I guess we have two options. One, you put me through what you just did to yourself. Set up one of those...cocoon things.”

“Chrysallis.”

“Whatever. I’m losing my hair by the day anyway, faster than ever after going through the rift, so…” Michael shrugged. “Or else, say I’m some strange alien here running the ship. A one of a kind, like Zathras. An aide to you, from wherever you’ve come from. A thousand years is a long time to let one not very historic figure like myself be completely forgotten. After all, Zathras showed up in our time and no one had a clue who or what he was. Hell, no one still knows. I can be as much of an unsolved mystery, for however long I’ve got.”

“You’re probably right.”

“I usually am. That’s why you keep me around.” Michael held his gaze, and Jeff drew strength from his presence, his touch, his nearness, that small quirk of a smile that always warmed his heart.

“And I hope it will be quite for a few years, Michael.”

“Any time at all is better than the alternative of losing you forever.”

“Love” was not a word they’d spoken to one another. It had never seemed to fit their nature, or the uniqueness of their bond and relationship. But perhaps, Jeff thought, it was because it was wholly insufficient to encompass the depth of this bond between them. Michael had been willing to sacrifice all he had, even years of his life, to be here now and that was a gift of devotion and loyalty Jeff would never forget or take for granted.

Indeed, he felt he might spend the rest of his lifetime working to pay back and feel like he’d truly earned that gift.

But he also knew, right now, he had other obligations which needed to be met. That became far too evident as, just as he was leaning in to rest his head against Michael’s (and shuddering at the strange sensation of the man’s breath against the bony crest now spanning his skull), he heard skittering footfalls and muttered words coming toward them both.

“Awake! Good! Up, up, no time! Must get ready soon!”

“Ready?” Jeff asked.

“Yes. Vorlon ships come through jumpgate. That means Minbari ships not far behind. Zathras will prepare their welcome, as Zathras prepare and do all things. You must prepare as well to meet them.”

“So soon?”

“No time to waste! No time!” Zathras insisted, arms flapping in annoyance and cloak blowing out behind him as he ran off again.

Jeff chuckled and Michael rolled his eyes. “I’ve been dealing with him on my own for a couple weeks, now it’s your turn to suffer as well. Anyway, your Ranger gear is all hanging up in the bathroom, I guess that’s as good as anything for greeting Minbari from a thousand years ago, right?”

“It seems entirely appropriate for Valen’s first appearance, yes. You need to start calling me that.”

“I know. It’s not like they’ll understand my English anyway, but...Valen it is. Though you’ll always be Jeff to me.” 

He sighed, and allowed them both one last quiet moment together—embracing, sharing one last, lingering kiss as Michael and Jeff—before he got up from the bed. It was time to finally see who he had become. Time to acknowledge the change, to dress, and to put on not simply the attire but demeanor Valen. To lead the Minbari in this first battle against the Shadows so that the others could finally defeat them, one thousand years from now.

His fate was sealed. Jeffrey Sinclair was no more. But he was not alone. And as long as Michael was here, he would never lose complete touch with humanity, the man he once was. 

Yes. Perhaps this was as destiny had commanded it to be.

* * *

**_2260_ **

> _“One way or another, when you get this transmission, I’ll guess I’ll dead. I’ll either be somewhere—wherever, whenever—Jeff is going with Babylon 4, or I’ll be killed by the spatial rift in Sector 14._
> 
> _“But don’t worry about me. I’m okay. Either way I’m good. I finally understand...this is the moment I was born for. You all have things under control with your Army of Light, and I hereby appoint Zack Allan to be my replacement as chief of security. I have to go where I’m needed, and that’s always been at Commander Sinclair’s side. Garibaldi out.”_

They all sat in stunned, awkward silence for several moments. “Well this is a right disaster,” John finally said with a sigh, letting out his frustration with a painful _thump_ to security chief’s desk. “Sinclair was insistent with me that Michael stay here. What kind of mess has he made of things by not listening?”

“I’m not sure,” Delenn said. “Maybe...none at all.” At John’s, Susan’s, and Marcus’s curious glances, she continued, “We are all still here, as before, are we not? Getting ready to fight the Shadows after they have spent a thousand years preparing for this final battle, but clearly weakened by what happened in the past. So, it is obvious that Sinclair was successful in bringing Babylon 4 back to the past—whether or not Michael made it there with him.”

“But we wouldn’t know if things are different than before we left, now, would we?” Marcus asked. “Because if so, our pasts would have changed so that we remember it differently now. Texts might have been rewritten, all in the flash of this one thing happening.”

“Then maybe it was always meant to happen this way. We may know the past, but we cannot know how the present—or the future—will happen until it is before us.”

John almost said something, about how he had seen a flash of his own future while unstuck in time. Delenn, insistent on only one thing, that he not go to Z’ha’dum. But he didn’t know what she had meant by that. Was it a similar warning which, no matter what, he was destined to ignore? A part of his—their—future that was immutable?

Before he could say anything, Susan interrupted, “I’m sorry but all of this time travel stuff is giving me a migraine, on top of the fact that I’ve just lost two of my dearest friends forever and I don’t know how to process that.”

“Alcohol usually helps for a while,” Marcus suggested to her. “And a shoulder to lean on. I’d gladly provide both.”

“You know, for once, Marcus? I think I’ll take you up on your offer. If...it’s all right with the rest of you and we’re dismissed,” she asked.

“Go on, Susan, take time as you need it. I guess Mr. Allan and I have some business to address as far as station matters are concerned going forward,” John said, the “new” chief not looking all that comfortable with his appointment. But John knew that Michael had trained him well, and after all the events of the past year he knew he could trust Zack to be fully on their side. 

“I should go also, spend some time reviewing the ancient texts,” Delenn said. “Marcus may be right but I want to be sure there is nothing that may be different than I remember. Nothing critical to our mission.”

“And if there is? What can we do about it?” John asked.

Delenn gave his shoulder a gentle touch. “Nothing, I suppose. Except pray to the universe for guidance. And keep those we care about, here or far away, forever close in our hearts.” 

* * *

**_1270_ **

Tuzanor was always particularly beautiful this time of year. The evening meal now done, Valen contemplated the city’s tranquil radiance as he rested in the gardens of the Ranger training facility. The days had begun to grow shorter but there was still a warming evening glow falling over the crystalline skyline at this hour. The unique trees of Minbar had turned vibrant colors as the colder months approached, like a rainbow dancing over the land.

He hoped Michael would be back from his mission soon enough to enjoy the scenery before the brilliant colors had passed. He had taken off a few days ago, vague on the reasons why beyond that it was a security matter he wanted to investigate, and that he needed to handle it on his own. And despite his advancing years, Michael was as stubborn as he’d ever been. Valen had known better to object, or to send anyone else out behind him as back-up.

Michael could still take care of himself—in fact in some ways better than ever, after being one of the first graduates of the Ranger training program. Valen wasn’t worried about him.

The war with the Shadows was years over...at least, for now. Babylon 4 had served its purpose in aid to the Minbari, the enemy driven back to Z'ha'dum, and now he was able to concentrate fully on the next phase of his life’s work. Building the Ranger army, helping to bring balance to the Minbari castes through the establishment of the Grey Council. History was being written as it was meant to, words flowing from his pen—words that he had once studied in his life as Jeffrey Sinclair.

Another lifetime, indeed...one that, with each passing day, seemed more distant from the existence he lived now. Michael remained his one tie to that former life, and for that he was forever thankful. It helped remind him of the future he was still fighting to protect, the people he’d loved that were still waiting to be born.

There were few things else he could ask for. About the only matter giving him trouble was a growing pressure, from his acolytes and advisors, that he should find a wife and marry soon. They urged him that he must continue his legacy through offspring. Oh, they had accepted Michael as his peculiar alien companion—a “Warrior mate” as was not uncommon among the that caste. But for the Minbari it was deeply important to carry forward their souls through new generations, particularly the souls of their great leaders, scholars and guides. 

Michael understood and had been goading him on as well. _“We don’t know how many years I have after the tachyon exposure, and we do know Minbari live considerably longer than humans. You deserve a companion for when I can’t be there for you. I never demanded the entirety of your attention, back on Babylon 5 or Mars.”_

_“I know, but part of me...part of me still can’t let go of her.”_

Catherine.

It was a conversation they’d had many times, and he _knew_ he had to move on. But the part of his heart which didn’t belong to Michael had only ever belonged to her. He would have to meditate hard upon this, and work toward opening himself up to another, for the good of these people. And also, he knew, to fulfill the prophecy of Minbari and human souls intermingling.

He grew lost in these thoughts and concerns until alerted by the sound of approaching foot falls, just as the sun disappeared beyond the horizon. He relaxed, though, as he recognized the sound of a very particular gait, Michael’s steps accented by the light tap of his walking stick against the hard floor.

“You’re back.” Valen stood and greeted Michael with a hug and a warm smile as he came out into the garden. For several days’ flight he looked energized, not tired. That meant things must have gone well. “I take it you enjoyed a productive trip?”

“More than I had reason to hope for.” They spoke in English only to each other, and only in private situations. It was good to have a language only they shared, and Valen didn’t want to lose his use of it for the letters he still had yet to write, for the future. 

“Come, sit, tell me about it.” Valen led him, arms entwined, to the bench overlooking the garden. Michael sat with a sigh, wincing slightly at the back pain he still tried to deny from an injury during the war. “And tomorrow you’re going to let the doctor take a look at your back.”

“I’ll be fine, I’m just stiff from the trip. Nothing a good massage won’t help—now _that_ I won’t turn down tomorrow.”

“I’ll offer those services gladly.”

“You might be otherwise occupied, but I can always get Yelnon to lend her hands,” Michael said with a wink.

Valen chuckled and shook his head. Michael’s expression turned somewhat more serious, so Valen waited for him to speak, to finally explain his secretive mission. “Sorry I couldn’t say more about why I headed out and where, but I had to be sure. I didn’t want to get your hopes up.”

“Hopes regarding what?”

Michael paused, taking his time to answer, his eyes gazing out far past the distant horizon. “Way, way back, back in our early times here...remember how you told me about what happened to Catherine?”

The mere mention of her name summoned that old ache to his heart, a flash of the memory of her. “She disappeared in the temporal rift in Sector 14 while on a Ranger mission, with myself—my _former_ self—and Marcus.”

Michael nodded. “No way of knowing when or where she would reappear. If she or her ship would survive.”

“I’ve sent missions out to search...for even just wreckage or an abandoned ship…”

“I know you have. I’ve done my own investigative work.” Valen tilted his head, curious, as Michael paused. “Some time ago I set up a beacon—far away enough from the rift to avoid getting caught up in it, but close enough it could be reached by a fighter ship of that time. Programmed it to respond to a distress signal sent out on any of the frequencies used by human or Minbari crews. And to relay that response to me should there ever be an activation. When I took off the other day, it was because...I got such an alert.”

The world suddenly became so much smaller, a pinpoint of focus where he could concentrate on nor see nothing else. “Michael…”

“I didn’t want to say anything until I checked it out for real; there have been a few false signals in the past.” He grasped Valen’s hands in his own, steadying the shaking that had overcome them. Michael’s eyes were bright as he said, “There’s someone inside waiting to see you. Someone you’ve been waiting to see for a long, _long_ time. Now, I’ll wait out here, give you both the time you deserve to catch up. Though I guess catching up on a thousand years could take a while, and I’m an old creaky fart who should get to bed soon.” Michael leaned in and kissed him on the forehead, pressed his hand to Valen’s rapidly beating heart. “So maybe I’ll just catch up with you both in the morning.”

Breathe. For a moment, Valen thought he forgot to breathe. He felt the world spinning and spiraling around him as he had only felt once before, when he’d read his letter to himself explaining his destiny. But Michael was there to steady him this time, until the moment he returned to himself, and he looked into his dearest friend’s warm eyes. 

“How do I ever thank you for this? For everything?”

“You already have. More than you’ll ever know. Now don’t keep her waiting any longer.”

No, he couldn’t do that. Time, no matter how endless, was far too precious to waste.

_*end*_

_And if the whole world is crashing down_  
_Fall through space out of mind with me_  
_Where the emptiness we leave behind on warm air rising_  
_Blows all the shadows far away_ _—(“Empire Ants”, Gorillaz & Yukimi Nagano)_


End file.
